


Good for Daddy

by RoughTweedAction (Donya)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Daddy Kink, Desk Sex, Fluff and Smut, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-24
Updated: 2017-11-24
Packaged: 2019-02-06 09:57:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12815055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Donya/pseuds/RoughTweedAction
Summary: Sherlock is Greg's good boy.





	Good for Daddy

Sherlock stood by the desk, idly flipping through a book. He couldn't focus enough to read, he was just passing the time. Ever so often he would glance at the clock. It was almost the time. He looked through the window, searching for a familiar figure. The anticipation was unbearable and sweet. John was at work, Mrs Hudson out, yet still an ill-timed interruption in the form of a tempting case could ruin the evening. Sherlock checked the time again. Took another look at the pavement in front of the building. Finally, he spotted a grey-haired man. Greg Lestrade walked fast, hands in the pockets of his coat.

As Sherlock waited for Greg to join him, he once again thought how little effort they had to put into keeping it a secret. Somehow no one wondered why Greg had a key. They all assumed it was only a safety measure. It was so easy, hiding in the plain sight.

Approaching footsteps stopped his smug thoughts. He knew what was about to happen, what always happened when they were alone. His heart was racing. His cheeks heated up. He turned his head to see Greg enter the room, but didn't move from his spot. As much as wanted to come up to him and welcome him with a kiss, that was not what Greg, Daddy, expected from a good boy. Sherlock knew that, he remembered what Daddy wanted. Not a pushy, disobedient boy, no, Daddy expected to find him freshly showered, barefoot and prepared.

Daddy watched him as he removed his coat and put it on the sofa. He quickly realised Sherlock had followed the instructions and wasn't going to be a brat that night. Sherlock opened his mouth a couple of times, not sure if talking was a good idea. Babbling nervously just to fill the silence got him in trouble in the past. Keeping that in mind, he bit his lip.

'What are you reading?' Daddy asked, but didn't wait for the answer. Suddenly he was right behind Sherlock's back, looking over his shoulder at the book. Sherlock's mouth went dry. The closeness and the warmth of Daddy's body felt so good. He relaxed, leant back against Daddy's chest. Daddy reached out and closed the book to see the cover.

'Nicci French?' He smiled.

'It's John's,' Sherlock replied quietly. He knew Daddy loved it when he sounded sheepish. 'I-'

He forgot what he wanted to say as soon as he felt hands on his hips. He was wearing pyjama bottoms and a faded t-shirt. Daddy liked easy access. Sherlock automatically lifted his arms when Daddy pushed his t-shirt up. He shivered but was quickly distracted from the cold air. His bottoms were tugged down and slid to his ankles. Daddy didn't mind them there and Sherlock clearly wasn't going to go anywhere. They didn't waste time, Sherlock heard a zipper being pulled down, quickly followed by a hot, blunt head of Daddy's cock nudging his opening. His eyes closed and mouth opened in a soundless moan. A careful push forward, slow but steady, took his breath away. His hands tightened on the edge of the desk. He bent down, again biting his bottom lip. The burning stretch wasn't as painful as it used to be when they first started having sex, it became part of the pleasure, yet the first few thrusts made Sherlock 's eyes water nevertheless.

'Please, Daddy,' he whimpered.

Daddy gently ran his hands up and down Sherlock's sides, soothing him. Soft kisses placed on his shoulder and neck helped him adjust to the intrusion. He felt his body unclench, he let Daddy in deeper and sighed shakily in response.

'Good boy,' Daddy whispered, pleased with Sherlock. ' You feel so good.'

 

Sherlock was amazed by how not awkward it was. He never thought he would be with an older man, he didn't suspect he was into daddy kink. Sex, in general, seemed like a waste of time. There was no instant attraction to Greg when they first met. He was a troubled, obnoxious detective-amateur who no one took seriously. Greg was fighting for his marriage. Neither of them wanted a new relationship. Sherlock was bent on proving the world and his brother that he was not a hopeless addict. Greg was not repulsed by his usual defence mechanisms. He saw Sherlock at his lowest, saw him when he was malnourished, filthy and high, yet never abandoned him. The positive attention he never thought he needed puzzled Sherlock at first. Lestrade helped him in so many ways and didn't expect anything in return. He endured Sherlock's bad mood and his insults. Even Mycroft, usually distrustful of anyone who approached his little brother, didn't try to scare Greg away from Sherlock.

Sexual fantasies didn't occupy his mind, but he wasn't deaf. He heard people referring to Greg as DI Dilf. It didn't take a genius to decipher that code. _Silver fox_ and _dad tum_ were not complete mysteries either. Greg was going to become a middle-aged divorcee and to his surprise, Sherlock learnt that quite a lot of people fancied him. Sherlock didn't like the idea of someone new around his favourite detective.

The turning point was the drug bust. Sherlock wanted to be outraged and angry, Lestrade embarrassed him in front of a new friend whom Sherlock tried to impress. And yet he couldn't think clearly when Greg was sitting so ostentatiously comfortably in his chair, smirking, knees apart. Sherlock found himself stuttering. Was Greg's voice always like this? Low and, hmm, pleasant to hear? He couldn't stop staring at Greg's forearm when they discussed his not smoking. I was all so bizarre, he didn't understand the warmth spreading through him, right in the middle of a fascinating case. 

He didn't know how to properly express his feelings. He wouldn't be able to thank Greg for everything he had done for him without accidentally offending him. He didn't know how to make up for all the trouble he had caused. But when they were alone and he was Daddy's boy, he knew exactly how to make Daddy feel good. Then everything was simple. It felt so natural, slipping into the role of an obedient boy. Maybe because it didn't affect their professional relationship. Greg didn't use his Daddy voice when Sherlock couldn't control himself at the crime scene. What they did to unwind afterwards was their secret.

 

Sherlock stared unseeingly at the shelves of books as Daddy slowly moved inside him. The gentle glide and tender touch of Daddy's hands made the initial discomfort a distant memory. Sherlock rocked his hips let Daddy fill him completely. He kept his hands where Daddy could see them, on the desk. Daddy didn't like it when he touched himself without permission. Sherlock didn't want to upset Daddy and tried to be good, even though his neglected cock was aching.

'Daddy, touch me,' he begged in his most innocent tone. Daddy was usually so indulgent with him, most often all he had to do to get what he wanted was to ask nicely.

'Daddy needs you to be quiet now. If you do, I promise I'll take care of you,' Daddy replied and pushed in harder.

Sherlock cried out and jerked forward. He couldn't get away far, trapped between Daddy and the desk, his pyjama trousers still around his ankles. He loved it when Daddy remained fully clothed while he was nude. Daddy loved it, too. Sherlock leant down, elbows on the desk, mostly for Daddy's viewing pleasure. A warm hand on his back kept him down, but he didn't struggle. He closed his eyes, focused on the sensation of Daddy thrusting into him more forcefully now and whimpered, 'Daddy, Daddy...'

He tensed up when Daddy got louder and rougher. He knew he was about to come inside him. Sherlock couldn't help it, he found the feeling of the hot semen filling him uncomfortable. He always squirmed when it happened, making Daddy hold him tighter. Sherlock whined when Daddy moved his hand from his back to his hip. He wasn't going to get away, Daddy did as he pleased, spilt inside his boy. Sherlock trembled and tried to stay still, he wanted to be good for him.

After a moment, Daddy pressed his lips to Sherlock's back, kissing and saying how sweet he was. He pulled out eventually, Sherlock winced as he felt the wetness trickle down his thighs. He didn't complain, though and finally received a reward for his efforts. Daddy sat down on the edge of the sofa and told Sherlock to come to him. Sherlock nearly tripped on his way there, excited. Standing between Daddy's knees, he rested his hands on Daddy's shoulders. Daddy touched his hips and pulled him closer to his face. He opened his mouth and took Sherlock in with enviable ease. The sight of his stretched lips could be enough for Sherlock, but Daddy also sucked him hard and it always ended sooner than Sherlock wanted. He gasped and shivered violently, his pleasure intensified by the delicate caress of Daddy's tongue. Sherlock wished he could stay there and wait for another orgasm. A light smack to his bottom reminded him to behave himself and he slipped out of Daddy with regret.

 

Jim Moriarty was staring at the screen. He had a camera installed in Sherlock's flat to better plan his fall from grace and perhaps also feed his own obsession. He expected to see the usual evening routine, a relaxed Sherlock in his dressing gown, unaware of being watched. Someone walked into the room, it was just that completely unimportant detective inspector. Jim looked away, bored and nearly fell off his chair when he heard the word _daddy_.

He looked back to the screen and couldn't believe his own eyes. Sherlock, his innocent, virgin Sherlock... Jim was in shock. The faint satisfaction of guessing correctly Sherlock's kink didn't make him feel any better. Because it was not just shagging. Sherlock put his pyjamas back on and joined Lestrade on the sofa and they... cuddled. It was almost as if they knew Jim was watching. Affectionate murmurs and soft kisses made Jim's blood boil. Sherlock nuzzled Lestrade's neck, Lestrade wrapped his arm around Sherlock. Such a sweet, cosy display. Lestrade left an hour later, right before John was back from work. Jim tried very hard to control a sudden rage to destroy everything in sight. Although it was almost the time to solve the final problem, Jim decided to change the identity of the third potential victim. Molly didn't matter anymore, the real rival was Lestrade.

  



End file.
